


He Started it

by Nanimok



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Connor, Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Interrupted Sexy Times, M/M, OR IS IT??, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Sexual Content, Smut, Top Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 05:11:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20076694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanimok/pseuds/Nanimok
Summary: Desks (and strong chairs) were made for one reason and one reason only: fucking.A phone call isn't going to stop that.





	He Started it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mimoru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimoru/gifts).

> I honestly cannot believe that I started writing smut but these two androids smh I'm so thirsty for content ;_; This is my first time smutting so hopefully you enjoy!
> 
> For Mimoru. She knows why. 
> 
> Thank you to [feriswheel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feriswheel/pseuds/feriswheel) for being amazing and the only reason this piece is coherent. And also the summary! I love her more than she loves killing commas.

In Connor’s defence, Markus started it.

Markus with his touch, reverent and hungry, digging his fingers into the swell of Connor ass, roughing Connor onto his lap, right onto his bulge. It doesn’t put a stutter into their steps; Connor devours Markus’s tongue with his own, like he can’t get enough, as Markus’s hands massage their way down to his hole. 

Their kisses are heated and sloppy. Markus circles the pad of his finger around Connor’s rim, dipping and stretching him as leisurely as he pleases.

Android can usually self-lubricate, but Connor already planned ahead before entering the office, rubbing their favourite kind of lube onto his fingers before sliding them into himself.

In between their heavy breathing and desperate rutting, they manage out of their trousers and onto Connor guiding Markus’s shaft under him. Connor gives a low moan as Markus’s cock stretches him wider and wider, savouring the drag of Markus’s skin inside of him, inch by excruciating inch. He feels filled to the brim, his own cock leaking onto his stomach.

Markus presses his face into Connor’s neck, panting hot encouragements into his skin. When Connor is finally seated flush against Markus’s thighs, it feels like their thirium pump has been temporarily ripped out and plunged back in. Connor groans, wrapping his arms around Markus’s neck.

Sliding his hands into Connor’s hair, Markus tugs him into a slow, wet, starving kiss until—

_ Incoming call: NA400 Sarah Johnson # 420-698-495. _

They simultaneously groan, although for a different reason than before.

“Markus,” Connor gasps out, wrangling his breathing. “How important is this call?”

Markus thinks on it. “Reasonably important, I guess,” he says, palming one of Connor’s butt cheeks.

Connor rolls his eyes, and he makes an effort to inch himself off of Markus’s cock, biting his lip at the friction zinging through his body. But before Connor can slide more than a centimetre up, Markus’s hands fly onto his hips and shove Connor back onto his cock, brushing against his prostate.

Their eyes almost roll to the back of their heads.

_ “Markus,” _Connor hisses, squirming on Markus’s lap. “You’re not seriously—”

Connor moans as Markus grinds a slow circle with his hips.

“I said reasonably,” Markus says, grinning. “Not unquestionably.”

Much like a computer—because they _ are _just supercomputers—Markus can isolate his phone call, filtering selected noises through, external or internal, while muting the rest. It takes more processing power than usual—in other words, more concentration—but it’s doable.

Connor huffs. “This is highly unprofessional.”

Markus taps his fingers on Connor’s hips. “Only if you get caught,” he says cheekily.

Connor narrows his eyes.

Sliding his hands to cup Connor’s ass, Markus hoists the both of them onto a more upright position. His cock brushes against Connor’s prostate, making Connor inhale sharply.

Markus is outright smirking now. “Better keep it down, babe,” he says. “Don’t know what I might let slip if I’m not concentrating properly… Good afternoon. Jericho representative Markus Manfred speaking.”

Markus has a diplomat voice he employs whenever he’s at work. It’s soothing and placating, while still being charismatic and pristine. Impaled, and with nothing else to do, Connor focuses on the rise plans fall of Markus's voice. 

Leaning in, Connor trails one hand over Markus’s shirt to play with the buttons. He buries his nose into the crook of Markus’s neck, and breathes in and out, in and out—focusing on the heat running under his skin, the thick cock pulsing inside of him, and his own cock almost throbbing for Markus’s attention.

Androids aren’t supposed to have scents, but along the way, Markus has come to smell faintly of acrylics, minty detergent, and softeners—everything Connor associates with their home. Heat uncurls in his lower body as he buries his nose in deeper. Connor can spend all day in this spot, and he’d never get enough.

Markus takes this as an invitation to run his hand up and down Connor’s back. It’s intoxicating; his head resting on Markus’s shoulder; Markus’s voice conversing with the caller; his nose squashing into Markus’s neck; Markus’s hands brushing on Connor’s back.

_ Imagine if they knew, _ Connor thinks, tracing his fingers along the lines of Markus’s chest. _ Imagine if they knew that prim and proper Markus Manfred had his husband messy and flushed, split on his cock during his phone call. _

Connor hums at the though, a soft rumble from his chest. His hands continue their exploration, testing his callouses against the soft, bounciness of Markus's skin.

RA9, did Elijah make Markus so bountiful. Kamski had no right to make Markus fit so perfectly in Connor’s hands.

A devious shudder tickles down his back. His spreads his hand over one pec, savouring the firmness of his muscle. Slowly, ever so slowly, Connor clenches down Markus’s cock at the same time he squeezes a handful of Markus’s chest.

He gives a soft moan right into Markus’s ear.

Markus’s breathing stutters, and he pinches Connor’s butt cheek in retaliation. “Pardon me, I missed that. Would you be able to repeat the statement?” he asks the caller.

_ Behave, _ his one-raised-eyebrow look tells him.

Connor smirks.

He doubts Markus would risk his professionalism unless he knew he was capable of blocking out all the noises Connor would make. If Markus insists on answering the phone while they’re having sex, Connor might as well have fun with it.

His hands begin their curious roaming again, tweaking Markus’s nipple, rubbing his thumb on the curves and dips of his chest, grasping greedily at any patch of skin it finds. At the same time, Conor bears down on Markus’s cock, lifting and sinking himself in slow deliberate movements. He bites his bottom lip, already swollen and plump from all their kissing, knowing that the sight of teeth in his plush lips makes Markus go absolutely crazy, and waves of pleasure barrage his senses, nudging up his spine.

If Markus still had his LED, it would be flashing madly. His hands fly up to Connor’s waist, then back to his hips, then down to his ass, undecided under the onslaught of sensations. Before Markus can protest too much, Connor pulls him into a wet kiss, thoroughly exploring his mouth. He sucks on Markus’s bottom lip when Markus tries to pull back, looking up under his heavy eyelids.

Markus is breathing heavily. He takes in a big gulp of air. “Yes, it would be best if the proposal was submitted tonight,” he says in an even tone, wrapping one hand around Connor’s cock, and squeezing in revenge.

His thighs buckle, and Connor sinks further down than what he thought possible. Markus’s cock thrusts against his prostate and Connor muffles the sloppy moan against the side of Markus’s mouth.

“Apologies,” Markus mumbles around Connor’s lips. “Jericho’s network is undergoing maintenance. Please, continue.”

“You’re the one who started this,” Connor mutters, nibbling on Markus’s lips, following when Markus tries to turn his head away. “Finish it, Markus.”

Markus, predictably, ignores him. He continues stroking his hand up and down Connor’s cock, the warm and rough pressure wracking his body with pleasure. Connor won’t last long at this rate, and that just won’t do since he intends to make Markus _ pay. _

Connor places his hand on Markus’s shoulders. He starts fucking himself in short, swallow, thrusts, never lifting himself up too far. His body tingles from the bone-deep pleasure.

Markus struggles with controlling how his chest heaves. Connor leans in, hitching his breath into soft, little pants.

The sight is absolutely _ obscene, _Connor knows. His hair is all mussed up, his eyes are glazed over and unfocused, his lips are bright red, glistening with drool.

“For you, Markus,” Connor whispers into his ear. “This is all for you, and only you.”

Markus hisses out a breath, closing his eyes. Then, the hand on Connor’s cock strokes faster, matching the pace of Connor fucking himself on Markus’s cock.

“Markus, _ please,” _Connor whines.

Closing his eyes, Markus tosses his head back. “The maintenance… is affecting my network.” Markus breathes out. “More than I had expected.”

Almost letting out a growl, Connor reaches down and pinches Markus’s nipples.

Markus moans, loud and uncontrollable. He freezes. “Oh, that… was very unprofessional of me, my apologies. I had just received some bad news.”

One of Connor’s eyebrows arches up to the roof. If Markus moaned like that every time he received bad news, Connor would have handed his badge in and signed up to become a politician a long time ago.

_ This is getting nowhere, _ Connor thinks to himself. Connor’s frustrated, hot, a little desperate for release, not going to lie, and Markus doesn’t seem like he’s going to be breaking any time soon.

Time for him to take matters into his own hands.

More specifically, Markus’s hands as Connor peels his skin back and requests an interface. Markus pulls him in by instinct, and they’re treated to a feedback loop of pleasure; of Markus being enclosed in a tight, slippery heat, of Markus’s calloused hands gripping Connor’s cock, of Connor feeling full in the deepest possible way, of the electricity that zaps their nerves as they move against each other.

Underneath it all, Connor can feel the sheer willpower Markus is exerting to isolate the phone call. Like a stretched band, it’s tight and precarious. He taps himself in and hears the caller ask Markus for confirmation.

Then, Connor raises himself until he’s halfway up Markus’s cock, and slams himself down. He shoves three fingers into Markus’s mouth, stifling his moan, before adjusting his voice modulator.

“Official confirmation can’t be given until the proposal has been reviewed by the rest of Jericho’s representatives,” Connor says in _ Markus’s _ voice. “But everything is looking good from my end. One of our people will contact you once more details has been negotiated.”

Markus mumbles around his fingers. 

_ “Thank you for your time, Mr. Manfred.” _

“As to you, Ms. Johnson,” Connor says. “I hope to work with you again in the future.”

He hangs up.

Before he knows it, a ‘_smack’ _ comes down on his ass. The flash of pain causes Connor to arch his back in a soft groan.

Red cheeked and sucking on Connor’s fingers, Markus sends a message through their connections. _ Did you even know what you agreed to? _he asks in amusement.

“Yes,” Connor says, in his own voice. “Whatever it will take for you to fuck me.”

Markus rolls his eyes. _ Bratty, bratty, bratty. _

"Markus," Connor says.

But finally, _ finally, _Markus listens to him. He digs his fingers into Connor’s ass once more. “Hold on for a second,” he says, before lifting himself and Connor off the chair.

Connor jolts, pressing Markus’s cock deeper into him by force of gravity. He wraps his legs around Markus’s waist as Markus repositions them, Connor’s back now on his work desk. Markus hoists both of Connor’s legs around his shoulder.

Markus kisses the inside of Connor’s leg, hands rubbing up and down. “Much better,” he says.

Then he grabs Connor’s waist, and slams himself in and out at a steady pace.

Connor howls, one hand clutching on the table, the other flying onto his cock. At this angle, Connor is helpless to push back as Markus fucks him right onto his desk. His body stiffens, pleasure overwhelming him, becoming almost too much to handle.

_ “Markus,” _Connor begs.

“All for you,” Markus pants out, clutching at Connor’s hips and like a lifeline, “All for you and only you.”

He peels away Connor’s hand from his own cock and strokes it to the rhythm of his thrusts.

It’s all too much. Markus inside him, around him, on top of him. Soon, the pressure builds and _ builds _ into a concentrated fine point, until—

“Markus,” Connor shouts, coming all over his stomach and Markus’s hands. His body tightens itself like a screw, waves and waves of a rapturous high cutting through the tense strings of his body. He clenches on instinct, and soon, with one final slam, Markus joins him.

* * *

They lay together on the desk in a boneless pile of machinery, their breathing loud and heavy and their bodies cooling. Connor is completely squashed under Markus, who’s contentedly nuzzling into the crook of Connor’s neck.

Connor spreads a palm on his shoulder. “You’ll ruin your suit,” he says, his voice low and staticky. He makes no move to push Markus off him, though. Instead, he’s stroking Markus’s neck.

“It’s already ruined,” Markus mumbles sluggishly into his neck. “I have a spare in the cubicle. I mean drawers… in one of these drawers…” Markus pauses, plants a quick kiss on his neck, before pushing himself up. “You’re such a little shit, you know that right?”

Connor smiles innocently. He brushes a kiss on Markus’s lips. “You started it,” he says cheekily.

Markus chuckles, running a hand through Connor’s hair. “I know I did,” Markus says. “RA9 help me, I know I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> Another round of applause:  
\- The Great [Mimoru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimoru/pseuds/Mimoru) as the Enabler  
\- [feriswheel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feriswheel/pseuds/feriswheel) for being an amazing guiding, strict, coherent, spirit, and drove me to write all this within three days.  
\- [RenderedReversed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenderedReversed/pseuds/RenderedReversed) for roasting me until I got my ass together, and proceeded to murder the whole franchise when she called the LEDs a Mood Ring.  
\- [joyeuseful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyeuseful/pseuds/joyeuseful) for being there in spirit.


End file.
